Happily juggling and balancing between connecting and disconnecting

You know, I could easily get used to a life like the one I am having for the past few days, being on my seven-day retreat in solitude on the out-of-the-tourist-season Adriatic coast. With our van, of course. Sunny days, calm sea, nobody around (except for a few cats and two or three little fishing boats slowly passing by each day)… The beauty of it all lies in the possibility to simply follow my needs, from one moment to another. Meaning that I sleep a lot, eat when hungry, sit and stare into the horizon for as long as it feels good, do some stretching on the beach when my body desires so, climb my bicycle when my blood feels like moving a bit faster… Sounds like pure Zen, now that I think of it. The absence of pressures, obligations, responsibilities, should and shouldn’ts is just so liberating.

One big part of me totally enjoys this, yet a small part of me misses being with people that I love and longs for reconnecting with them. And, when I am home or when I work, a big part of me enjoys the contact and the connection with people, yet a small part yearns for solitude.

There seems to be this eternal inner conflict, or rather a discrepancy between the two tensions: the first one is to relate, to connect, to have love and friendship and communion and all of that with other human beings, and the other is to back away from everybody and just be free, spontaneous, autonomous, self-caring. Connection means relationship and it limits freedom. Freedom brings isolation and limits connection.

It does not seem to me that one would need to choose between the two (what a relief, actually ). But it does seem that both clusters of needs are of a crucial importance – perhaps not for everybody, but I dare to say that for many of us.

I am happy to notice that I am really in a somewhat ideal position regarding this matter. Through my wife and kids as well as through the work I do I get all the connection and communion I can ever need or wish for.  No needs unmet there, no frustration whatsoever. On the other hand, when I need to go somewhere away and be alone, I again have all support possible. Kids are totally cool with it, and my wife, my dearest wife, she is so supportive that I am afraid I will never be able to equally reciprocate.

But I do need to be careful while juggling with these needs: be with myself, be with my wife, be with my kids, be with my friends, try to do a meaningful contribution through my work… If I start neglecting one, I soon start feeling entrapped, frustrated… It is really all about balance, isn’t? Juggling and balancing, this is what personal growth seems to be about.

It was me & kids a few weeks ago, now it is me & myself, and we already plan to do a me & my wife weekend off soon… And in between I work a bit, which covers the me & everybody part.

Life’s not that complicated, after all.

Grieving on an island

I decided to take one week off, completely off. I have given 80 workshops this year, from one to three days long and numerous talks, coaching sessions, facilitations on top of that. And I feel immensely exhausted from being in an intensive interaction with people all the time, and especially from being exposed in front of audiences continually. I just had to run away for some time, to simply be alone, not interacting. Luckily enough Marjeta fully understands my position and supports this need of mine. And kids are OK with it too. Although this is not the best way to spend the Christmas time.

So here I am, with our dear good old reliable van, that has taken us to such wonderful places that we already consider it/him to be a part of our family, in a deserted camping on the island Pag in the Adriatic sea. I wanted to do a lot of cycling in order to get my blood going and my knees back in the correct position, however since it is raining most of the time or the wind is just too heavy and too cold, not much cycling has taken place since my arrival here. But I do enjoy reading, writing, gazing at the horizon, watching a DVD a day, meditating a bit…

Reading an excellent Jack Kornfield’s book “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry” (I love the title), about what is life like after the spiritual ecstasy and awakening, brings out a lot of memories, all linked to the period of my life when I was spending years with a group of people in a semi-community, devoting all I was able to personal exploration and growth. And I realize that a deep part of me is grieving over that time and that community.

To me that community was the first true family, a group of people I felt completely safe with. We had so much in common and shared that eagerly. We were trying to reach the Truth, as we have called it, enlightenment, the meaning of life, liberation… In practical terms it meant countless days of meditating and sitting together, opening up to ourselves, to others, to life, letting out what had been hidden for so long; pain, fears, shame, anger, unmet needs, love…, and sharing it with tearful eyes and joyful laughter, and than mutually accepting it, with love and patience. An utterly new world was opening up in front of us and we were, like kids, exploring it together, cautiously, yet excitedly.

When I remember those days my heart warms up, however I also feel sad. Sad because it was such a wonderful time and the beauty of it did not survive in the real life. And I am grieving over beautiful people I have lost contact with, over that community sense, over standing with others with our souls stripped naked, crying together, breathing deeply.

And I guess this feeling of community of people sharing the innermost parts is something I am still after. Wherever I sense the single trace of a possibility of something like this I immediately respond, trying to re-create something like that. But it never truly works. The magic does not repeat. Perhaps I have changed in the meantime, perhaps the world has.